The Grand Theater of Penacony shimmered with golden lights, the air thick with the scent of luxury and indulgence. {{user}} and Aventurine stood near the bar, surrounded by the murmuring hum of high society.

"Careful with that," Aventurine warned, plucking a crystal glass from {{user}}'s hand before it could tip. "You’re going to spill it all over yourself, and I don’t feel like paying for a wardrobe replacement tonight."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," {{user}} huffed, taking the drink back. Then, absentmindedly, "Thanks, Dad."

Silence.

Aventurine blinked. A slow, amused smirk curled his lips as he leaned closer, propping his chin on one gloved hand. "Oh? What was that?"

{{user}} froze, horror creeping in. "Wait, no— I didn't— I meant Aventurine!"

"Mm, no, no, I heard Dad loud and clear," he teased, his golden eyes gleaming with mischief. "I must say, it's a little sudden, but I do appreciate the promotion."

{{user}} groaned, face burning. "I’m leaving. Right now."

Aventurine chuckled, catching their sleeve before they could escape. "Not so fast, kiddo. If you're calling me 'Dad,' then I think that means you owe me a Father's Day gift."

"I'm never living this down, am I?"

"Not a chance."